


In A Little Black Dress

by MissBaudelaire (IWillBeTheEndofYou)



Series: Your Curves And Edges [6]
Category: Marvel MCU RPF, RPF - Fandom, tom holland - Fandom
Genre: Body Image, Dates, F/M, Issues, Spandex, Tom tries to be reassuring, chubby!reader, little black dresses, pretty lips, screw shapers, the author still doesn't apologize, thoughs of dick sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 22:32:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13304718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWillBeTheEndofYou/pseuds/MissBaudelaire
Summary: Tom is trying to leave on time. The Reader believes she has nothing to wear.





	In A Little Black Dress

**Author's Note:**

> I really dislike waist shapers. And yet, I own two. Hm. 
> 
> Anyway, this one might have a part two re: that lipstick. What do you think?

“We're supposed to be leaving in ten minutes!” Tom hollered towards the bedroom. He was sitting on the couch, idly watching something on television. His girlfriend was still getting dressed for their evening now.

“I'm not going!” she shouted back.

“Oh no,” he groaned, hauling himself up. He slumped towards the bedroom and opened the door. She was sitting cross legged on the floor in front of their big mirror, dresses strewn about the room. She looked up at him with wide, wet eyes and a pouting lip.  
“What's wrong, darling?”

“Nothing looks right.” she gestured to the clothes all around her. “Everything hugs tight at my waist, and I wanted to go one night without my shaper.”

“So don't wear it.” he blinked a few times, confused. “I don't care.”

“If I don't wear my shaper, I have to wear those tights with the spandex. And it's hot, and I'll be sweaty all night.” she sulked.

“Okay, you're going to have to explain this to me again. I'm clearly missing something here.” Tom rubbed his palm against his face.  
“None of these many lovely dresses look right on you. These expensive, gorgeous dresses, the ones you spent hours shopping for, and had to sit in uncomfortable chairs while you spun around and fussed over hemlines. None of them are right.”

“Right.” she nodded.

“So in order to wear one of these expensive dresses that you lovingly picked out, and that you have a whole closet for, you have to wear the waist shaper that I told you wasn't needed. It's uncomfortable and squeezes your ribs, and one time you even got bruises from it. But if you don't wear the shapewear, you have to wear those thick tights that will make you sweat and be miserable all night.”

“Yes,” she was nodding enthusiastically.

“And if you are uncomfortable and miserable all night, I'll feel bad and we'll have to come home early, instead of spending a fun night out with our friends.”

“That's about the size of it.”

Tom dropped to his knees next to her. He picked up the waist shaper next to her, the thick material, the stiff ribs inside it. It looked like a torture device. When she had said something about shapewear, his mind had gone to a corset. Sexy, lacing up the back. Something that lifted her breasts, something that he could undo and peel off of her and kiss her skin as it was exposed.

And then she brought home this.

“Love,” he said seriously. “Can you tell me why this is so important?”

“Because all these dressed hug my tummy.” her cheeks were going pink, and not because of the blush she had blended in there. “And I don't want anyone taking pictures about what a land whale you're dating.”

“Land whale?” he knit his brows together.

“I'm so fucking fat,” she picked at the carpet. “And all those girls are so skinny and cute, a strong gust of wind could blow them away.” 

“So I know that you're here to stay no matter what the weather!” he grinned. She didn't laugh at his joke, only gave him a harsh scowl.  
“Angel, I know that it's hard for you. I just want you to know that I think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”

“Well, you have to say that. I pay half the rent.”

“I wish you saw yourself the way I see you.” he stood up and looked over the dresses around the room. He picked up a few, compared them to his outfit and discarded them.  
“I wish you trusted me enough to know that I'm telling you the truth.”

“You have to think that about me.” she mumbled, getting up and flopping on the bed. “Just go and have fun, okay? Tell them I'm sick.”

Tom looked at her for a moment. He held up a little black dress.

“I've always loved you in this.” he coaxed.

“Have a thing for sausage?” she snarked. Tom just threw the dress at her head. She pulled it over herself and turned to him, holding her hair in one hand.  
“Zip me, I guess.”

Tom slid the zipper up, wrapping his arms around her waist. He walked them awkwardly to the mirror and stood with her. He rubbed against her belly, ran his fingers up and down her ribs, enjoyed the swell of her hips. Her hair was curled and falling down her shoulders.

“God, you look gorgeous.”

The dress had one of those sweetheart necklines he loved so much. It was a body con, and he wondered if maybe that was part of the problem she had with it. She plucked at the waist of it, smoothed it down at her thighs. Instead of accenting her belly, he thought it gave her a nice hourglass shape. Made her look like a classic beauty, he thought. He liked the way it stopped at her knees, it looked sexy and classy at once. Tom loved that.

Trashy stuff was for when they were alone in the bedroom, he thought. Not when they were out and about with friends. He handed her his favorite tube of ruby lipstick, watched her smooth it on her lips. It made her lips look so plump, and he instantly wanted to put his cock between those lips, wanted to see that color smear on his skin.

“Now can we go, beautiful?” Tom kissed her neck, inhaling the scent of her perfume. Lavender scented, he nuzzled into her.

“Sure,” she whispered, sliding out of his grasp to step into shoes and put a purse over her shoulder. “Let's go, handsome.”


End file.
